A Strange New World
by mockingjayy
Summary: Five years after the rebellion and Panem is beginning to heal. One year after Snow's fall Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch perform a ceremony that the citizens will always remember and mark as Freedom Day. But who is the stranger in the Capitol? And why after five years are they still reluctant to celebrate?
1. A Strange New World

_'Now we're in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated.'_

(Mockingjay: Plutarch Heavensbee, pg. 442)

Five years had passed since the rebellion and Panem had been reborn. Hospitals and schools had been built from the ashes and new homes appointed to the families of the revolution. Children played freely in the streets where Peacekeepers no longer marched and every newborn baby was brought into a world without the fear of reaping day. The Hunger Games were over, stopped altogether despite the decision to pool the tributes once again and only from the Capitol. Coin was dead and her idea buried with her, the nation left to grieve and reflect without the threat of an extra reaping. Like in the rebellion, the victors' voices joined the districts' call out for it to be over. The invisible call of mourning mothers, grieving fathers and innocent children echoed the victors need to abandon their weapons and announce the end of the fight.

After the death of President Snow, each district celebrated its freedom and began the happiest period Panem had ever known. For the first few years, life became a happy blur with deprived citizens of every district embracing their new government's changes. Without a president to set the exportation quotas, the citizens of Panem had food to spare for the first time and each day the sun rose and fell without trouble or fear.

The boundaries between the Districts were relaxed with emigrating miners from Twelve swapping their dusty fireplaces for the lights and sounds of the Capitol. Farmer became fisherman with a hunger for the calm, sweet ocean in the same way that tired fishermen left their net-hauling and stormy seas for the tranquility of herding animals upon an open plain. Whilst hundreds moved away, some remained within their own districts, in the comfort of their surroundings and still open to the benefits of Panem's new laws. Panem was rebuilding itself inside the glow of revolution and under the guidance of its newly appointed democracy. Plutarch Heavensbee had taken charge of the rebuilding of the poorer districts, using the surviving victors as beacons of hope to build morale.

To forget the past, the first year of the revolution saw destruction. As well as the squalid houses in Eleven and Twelve all Victor's villages were burned to the ground by citizens to build a better, more equal society. For the inhabited houses, their rooms were cleared and left to burn by the victors themselves.

On the first anniversary of Snow's fall, Katniss Everdeen stood in her Victor's village in front of the house in which she had always felt a stranger. The house where she had never felt at home. Snow's sickly scent still clung to the carpets and behind each door she imagined Prim waiting on the other side. The huge house was nothing but a shell; empty and hollow despite her presence and colder still with the absence of her family. Her real home lay in the ash which still clung to the trees in Twelve, the house where she had lost her father and raised Prim like a mother. The cramped wooden home where she had wanted for everything and experienced nothing, her Victor's house the place where her experiences threatened to crush her. Within its cold walls, Katniss wanted nothing; its empty rooms a continuous reminder that nothing came without a price.

In the space between the two rows of houses stood a metal podium from the Capitol which held a large silver dish rippling with flame. Around its edge hung three torches allocated for the remaining houses in the village. Ahead of it, citizens had gathered to watch and were surrounded by unmanned cameras which streamed the night's events across Panem. A short distance behind the podium, an enormous television screen had been erected upon the scorched ground. Everyone watched as the three of the six remaining victors set their homes ablaze. First Beetee, then Annie, then Johanna. On Annie's broadcast, Katniss couldn't help but notice an extra house which appeared as the camera panned across the burned village. She wondered whether Annie would have had the authority to prevent its destruction before the commentator spoke, his voice-over booming out of the speakers and into the night.

'And here we see the house of the late, great Finnick Odair. Still standing I see.'

'How about that, Julius? His female counterpart chimed as Annie was escorted from the scene, her house slowly succumbing to the hungry flames.

'Well, it's a credit to him I suppose. And I think we all know that Mrs. O. was somewhere behind it… Maybe it'll become a museum? The last victor's house in all of Panem.'

With that the female reporter laughed and the shot faded to a title for District Seven and Johanna Mason melted onto the screen. With so few remaining victors, the ceremony was quick and Katniss knew that she, Peeta and Haymitch were up after Johanna's home went up in smoke. Once the television transmitted Johanna's flaming axe smashing through the lower floor window of her Victor's house in Seven, it was Twelve's turn.

Haymitch stepped forward and plunged his torch into the flames, the cameras now surrounding him. Katniss kept her eyes on the screen as it focused on Haymitch's rough hands around the torch and the flames which immediately leapt onto its surface.

'For the future.' Haymitch announced as the camera tilted towards his face. With his piercing blue eyes, nobody in all of Panem could have denied the intensity of Haymitch Abernathy's determination as he stared the main camera down the lens. His words prompted Katniss forwards as she made her way towards the podium and dipped her torch into the dish.

'The brightest future we have ever known.' she declared, raising her flaming torch above her head, her eyes meeting Peeta across the fire as he reached for his own.

That close to the fire, the heat was almost unbearable, its hot touch seeming to reach out and kiss Katniss's cheek… and the smell. Early in her childhood, Katniss would have described the smell of burning timber and the scent of fires as oaky and rich, a comfort to her cold nights. Back then fire smelt like her father's jacket drying by the fire and cooked game. Now it smelt like fear. Fire spelt pain and screams. Looking into the flames, Katniss saw faces. The kind eyes of her father and Gale laughing at her feeble first attempts to shoot. A second later and Finnick was there telling her to run, Peeta screaming in pain, Snow's slowly curving smile. Heat crept up her back and her eyes stung before the figures disappeared leaving a lonely face in the flames, Prim. Her little sister was smiling, a single blond plait hanging over one shoulder; the perfect imitation of her big sister. All too soon, she was gone. The flickering flames slowly distorting her face until there was nothing. Katniss followed the flames up towards the sky and blinked hard, her eyes watering. The faces were gone, but the fire remained.

'For freedom,' Haymitch hiccupped and the crowd cheered. Katniss stepped back and turned from the podium to wait on her front steps as the cameras followed Peeta to his front door.

Looking over her shoulder, Katniss watched his torch soar through and shatter his kitchen window.

Over the steps his voice cried out, his face filling the television screen.

'For the wounds we cannot heal.'

The whole ceremony had been Effie's idea. After Katniss' trial, Plutarch had assembled a close team of those dedicated to bringing hope back to Panem's people. Based in the Capitol, Katniss had participated in Plutarch's meetings over a video stream where she and Peeta could voice their ideas without needing to revisit the place of their nightmares. Effie had suggested the torching ceremony exactly one month before Katniss had lit her torch. Plutarch had immediately passed Effie's suggestion, recognizing Katniss' fiery image among the citizens above Effie's intent and the remaining victors' need to heal.

Katniss made Effie out amongst the crowd immediately, her stylists slightly orange hair reflecting in the flames due to its golden highlights. Although Effie Trinket was still at the height of fashion, her appearance had gradually grown more subdued. With Capitol citizens wanting to blend into their new society, hair colors and clothing design had degenerated to a more civilized style which Katniss thought suited Effie tremendously. Her stylist's hair now hung in a bob, its shade a deep brown with an orange tint with bright golden highlights which were admittedly less of a statement than Effie's previous full head of pumpkin colored locks. Effie was stood next to Mrs. Everdeen, the two women's arms entwined, Katniss guessed by Effie's insistence rather than her mothers. Looking across at her mother's pale complexion in the moonlight and the shine of her blond hair which had been braided into her trademark bun, Katniss couldn't help but think of Prim. Her thoughts clouded as the cameras began to head towards her and Haymitch's side of the street. Walking alone from his burning house, Katniss saw Peeta and thought of her sister.

'It's his fault. He and Beetee designed it.' Peeta had insisted, trying to reason the situation on the night of their reunion, 'They designed the bomb. I know you don't want to hear it but –'

But Katniss already knew. Blaming Gale or Beetee wouldn't achieve anything. It was done. Her sister had died trying to help others, as others had died trying to save her. Finnick, Boggs, Cinna it didn't matter, none of their deaths would have happened without the president's interference.

'It was Snow,' she said, her eyes locking on Peeta's. Grey on blue.

'All of it. Everything was Snow… Nothing would have happened to her… them…. Everything… Prim, Finnick, Rue… Snow. It was all Snow.'

The look on Peeta's face and the force in which he wrapped his arms around Katniss, apologized before he even opened his mouth. His embrace provided warmth and security, the only two things she had ever needed. The third appeared again in the sincerity of his voice as he whispered into her neck.

'I'm sorry. 'I never meant… It's just… Everyone needs someone to blame. Who doesn't? But…if-if it was all for the Games, all for Snow. What about…?'

The urgency in Peeta's voice took her back into the arena and the locket on the beach. Peeta was warmth and security and ultimately full of the one thing Katniss so sorely needed when she thought the past. Love.

'Us?' Katniss whispered.

Peeta nodded breaking from the embrace, his troubled eyes scanning hers.

'We're the only thing he couldn't have.' She smiled, stopping his thoughts with the press of her lips on his.

Katniss opened her front door slowly, sensing the proximity of the ever-watching cameras behind her and threw the torch inside. Haymitch had made a joke about her firing a flaming arrow through a window but Katniss had grown tired of hunting. Now Snow and Coin were done there was no oncoming threat. No prey to hunt and no predator to exist. With the hunt over, Katniss had no real need for her bow. She was safe.

The torch hit the ground and caught onto the carpet which curled up in fire and smoke.

'Goodbye Prim,' she whispered.

Turning back down the steps she saluted the cameras and the crowd raised their arms together to match her mockingjay sign with theirs. As the camera drew back and her arm dropped to her side, she heard Haymitch's shouts and the smash of glass which could only belong to the half empty bottles of spirits as his house caught alight. As the television screen turned back to the commentator at his desk, his closing speech mingled with Haymitch's triumphant shrieks.

'Step back, she's gonna blow.' He boomed, throwing his arms into the air as the crowd cheered. Katniss felt a smile creep onto her clips as her mentor threw himself down his front steps head first, tripping over his own leg on the way down. All of Panem knew as well as she that Haymitch would be back on his spirits the following afternoon, but it was nice to watch his alcohol erase an element of his past without him having to raise a glass to his lips.

No more victors' village. No more. No more.

Peeta met Katniss at the now-extinguished podium, his hand reaching for hers as Haymitch returned to his feet. Staging an elaborate bow Haymitch stumbled towards the couple before steadying himself with a hand on Peeta's shoulder.

'Shit,' he slurred turning back to his burning home.

'Looks like we're gonna have to find somewhere else to stay,' he drawled with a wink as heavy with sarcasm as the liquor on his breath.

'Parties over,' Peeta sighed as he leant against Haymitch's weight while reaching for his arm. Katniss grabbed the other to rest around her neck as Effie stepped forward from the retreating crowd to escort the three victors from the scene.

'Now really,' she said with a creeping smile upon her unpolished lips.

'This really is no place for my victors. Let's go back to the square and celebrate, shall we?' she chirped, pulling Katniss and Peeta towards the gates.

Without thinking Katniss wrapped her arms around Effie, the two womenawkwardly holding each other until Peeta grouped them both in a tight squeeze. The three stood there for a moment as the crowd departed, their heads nestled together to share a few tears.

'Ladies, please!' Haymitch boomed, causing them to spring apart. 'Don't we have a party to go to?'

Effie smiled, wiped her eyes with a bright pink handkerchief and nodded. Staring Haymitch down with her most attempted but frustrated stare, she linked Katniss' arm and hurried her victors away from the burning scene. Haymitch trailed behind them, after stopping to curse the fire for destroying his favourite liquor. As they departed, the cameras around them folded away and the fire team stepped forward to manage the blaze. As they passed through the Victor's Village gate, Katniss looked back over her shoulder. Her house was really smoking now, the fire's orange glow reaching the second floor windows. Next door Haymitch's was like an angry bonfire with large tendrils of fire and smoke pouring from the roof. New Panem was coming. No more Hunger Games.

Freedom Day was named thereafter and the anniversary of Snow's death and Panem's freedom was celebrated throughout the Districts every year. With parties, ceremonies, weddings and carnivals, Freedom Day became a national holiday in Panem for all its citizens.

Five years later, the sun rose early in the sky and Freedom Day dawned once again. Across the districts, the citizens welcomed their annual day of rest and celebration with sleepy yawns and contented smiles. For the workers, the holiday provided a light relief. Harvesters from Nine forgot about their ripening crops, analysts from Five kept their curtains closed from their power station skylines and every Mason or Smith from Two laid down their tools.

Curled up within the sheets of a Capitol hotel bed, one victor was less than ready to celebrate. Still drunk and groggy from a fractured sleep, Freedom Day meant as little to the Capitol's latest stranger as Plutarch Heavensbee's latest morale-raising initiative. Across the half-lit room, the muted television showed recaps of the Panem-wide final of Plutarch's singing contest, the winner accepting his trophy after a record number of votes. As he took his final bow and the credits began to roll, the stranger stirred. Rolling onto her side with her feet entangled in the hotel beds silk sheets, Johanna Mason groaned and opened her eyes.


	2. Last Night

_'They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love.'_

(Catching Fire: Johanna Mason, pg. 418)

As dawn slowly graced her seventh floor window, Johanna Mason turned over as quickly as her churning stomach would allow. The hotel phone lay on the opposite pillow, its consistent disconnected tone too much for her pounding head to handle. She rolled out of bed with a dreary moan, one of her famous headaches swinging around to greet her like an axe to the head.

When her eyes finally focused, Johanna scanned her hotel room. Looking at the stack of empty takeaway packets and bottles behind the sofa, she smirked. Glancing towards the 'no-smoking' sign above her dresser, Johanna almost laughed aloud as she considered just how much the bedroom had become an ashtray; her discarded dark clothes clinging like ash to its once clean insides. Standing in its deep orange light, Johanna slowly began to understand why the hotel maids' hated her.

She imagined them throwing a party when she left. Although Johanna knew she'd never been a 'tidy person,' the room only demonstrated the fact she'd gotten a whole lot worse. Looking around her latest residence, she could almost pinpoint the exact moment her regard for anything had fallen apart. It was in the first hotel she'd ran to back in Three after the rebellion, the first short-term stay of many over the years. Thinking of the maids, Johanna couldn't blame them for hating her, even she felt slightly ashamed. Hell, she thought, if they had a party she'd raise a toast herself.

Within her three month stay in the Capitol, Johanna's room had not welcomed a single cleaning cart. Its door had only been opened by Johanna and, similar to its main inhabitant, fiercely maintained its 'do not disturb' sign.

But that morning in particular, the door would be closed by Johanna for the last time, its sign casually discarded in the hallway. By the time the maids' began their rounds later, Johanna would be gone and there would be nothing to stop them entering Room 707 and cleaning it throughout.

Plutarch had called. It was time to go.


End file.
